Graduation and Other Horrible Things
by OkThat'sCool
Summary: Is it possible to fall in love with the guy that called you fat just four short years ago? P&P through four years of college. One shot.


Graduation and Other Horrible Things that Shouldn't Happen To Good People

A One-Shot

_Freshman Year_

Your first fraternity party is not something one can easily forget. The annual Kappa Sig rush kegger, however, was not one that many people seem to remember. All the stops had been pulled due to a recent financial surplus based on increased donations from a certain alum to celebrate his son's, a one Patrick Darcy, bid into the fraternity. This didn't mean that the guys of the house had bothered to do their dishes or wash their sheets, but rather that a whole extra case of 151 Rum had been purchased on the behalf of all the young ladies out there just waiting to have their morals loosened.

As an unsuspecting freshman, a week into her glorious college experience, Lizzie Bennet didn't really know what she was walking in to. She'd spent most of her highschool days volunteering at the local retirement home and working like a dog so that she could save up for college. That money plus a scholarship meant she didn't need a job right away and could therefore use her free time for discovering other pastimes. Alcohol seemed like a good one to start with.

By the time Lizzie and her new roommate—a sweet, beautiful girl named Jane who seemed to know every gentleman on campus without much effort on her part—arrived at this particular party, three girls had already settled in for naps on the only couch not already covered in vomit, the floor had already been coated in a sticky layer of garish colored liquids, and the vat had already been doled out by all the eager pledges, leaving only a smattering of various liquors with intimidating names and energy drinks with equally terrifying labels left to be drunk.

Lizzie took a glass of Diesel mixed with Monster. She didn't know which of those was the energy drink and which was the alcohol. A nice, slightly nerdy pledge dropped three gummy bears into her cup as an added bonus for her.

"Recognize anyone?" she asked, leaning into Jane and trying not to wince as she took her first sip of the nauseating concoction.

Jane nodded absentmindedly. "Just a few people." Not moments after those words were uttered, the fraternity president came sweeping up to them, pulling Jane into an all-too familiar hug and offering her a grand tour.

Lizzie mouthed the question as to who this was, to which Jane just shrugged cluelessly and allowed herself to be led off. Lizzie, not knowing what else to do, took a long sip on her drink and followed lamely in Jane's shadow.

"Ah, meet my new bitches," the president declared at last, after having shown Jane (and a still lurking Lizzie) to the kitchen and living room before leading the two of them out to the backyard and a crowd of young, eager gentlemen. "Pledges, meet my new friend, Jane. She's Elementary Ed."

Jane just shrugged and tried not to blush under so much male scrutiny. "Hi, this is my roommate, Lizzie." Lizzie laughed to herself. No one seemed to notice her presence when Jane was nearby—particularly these pledges—so she just finished her drink and headed off to find another.

The nerdy pledge was still there doling out drinks like a true champion, although the earlier crowds had abated after all the vat had disappeared. "What can you make me that will taste better than whatever I just had?" Lizzie asked, stepping up to the plate and holding out her empty cup.

"Ah, good you brought this back. We're all out after Davis puked all over our stash," the nerdy pledge said, taking her red solo cup from her and beginning to mix together a few unmarked bottles.

"Ah, how perfectly sophisticated and collegiate," Lizzie sighed ironically.

The nerd grinned. "English major?"

"Actually, my name's Lizzie." Lizzie grinned at her joke. Surprisingly, so did the nerd. She decided she liked him. "How did you know?"

The nerd laughed. "Charlie—or Chuck, rather. I'm English, too. We must learn to recognize our own, don't you think?"

"Like a sixth sense?"

Chuck handed her back her drink. "I'm just fucking with you. You're in my 201 class."

Lizzie nodded and tilted her cup at Chuck with a grin before digging in and venturing another sip only to be wildly impressed. "Wow, man. This shit's pretty good," she declared, to which Chuck shrugged modestly. "I can tell we'll be great friend's, Sir Chuck."

"Excellent, I'll save you a seat in class on Monday."

"Deal," Lizzie declared with a handshake before she made her excuses and let Chuck mix someone else one of his tasty concoctions. She found herself being herded back onto the patio, not by the crowds but by her raging awkwardness in the face of blatant wastedness and the urge for a familiar face. At last she spotted Jane, her admirers having dispersed leaving her with only a single gentleman—the victor, it would seem.

"Oh, Lizzie. There you are," Jane gushed, grinning and giddy with conversation from her new friend. "This is Patrick Darcy, pre-law."

"Hello Patrick Darcy, pre-law," she said cheerily, Chuck's drinks finally getting the upper hand on her.

"It's just Patrick," the young man said coldly, clearly perturbed by her presence.

"Ok, Darcy," she grinned.

His scowl deepened and they held a short standoff before he turned to Jane. "Jane, would you like to go inside? I could show you the tournament room," he asked already leading her into the house by the small of her back.

"Oooh," Jane smiled and allowed herself to be led. "What kind of tournaments?"

"Beerpong mostly," Darcy said proudly, leading her over the threshold and back inside. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, only to find Lizzie still following them closely—unsure of what else she should be doing. To this, his scowl deepened once again.

Lizzie followed them into the Glorious Tournament Hall of Beerpong Champions and Gods. She made it about 15 minutes into their conversation, smiling happily into her own rapidly empting cup, and listening to the inane drivel of a one Patrick Darcy about his hopes and dreams, and the enthusiastic reaffirmation from her lovely, over-encouraging roommate. At long last her cup went dry once again, and she took a thankful refuge from their annoying conversation by seeking out another—glad to finally have something better to preoccupy her time, since not a single person beside Chuck had even wasted 15 syllables on her.

She hopped happily back in line, swaying slightly on the sticky floor, and waited patiently for her turn back at the bar where Chuck was still mixing his artful concoctions. When she was second in line, she saw Patrick Darcy slip behind the bar and wrap his arm around his fellow pledge, Chuck, without even spotting her presence.

"Chuck, man. I need you bad."

"What's up?" Chuck asked, not even missing a beat, still mixing away for all his happy nonpaying customers.

"I'm about this close to sealing the deal with the blonde bimbo from heaven above, but I got a stage five lurker-roommate I just can't shake," Darcy explained, clearly audible to Lizzie from where she stood behind the young man whose drink was currently being mixed.

"So? What can I do?" Chuck replied.

"I need you to distract the fat friend so I can score with her roommate. She's like the world's worst cockblock."

Just as the sentence was out of Patrick Darcy's mouth, the guy in front of Lizzie cleared away and she was left with no barrier remaining between her and the mouth from which sprung these blatant insults.

She stepped up to the bar, her head held high, not even bothering to grace her features with a glare, even if Darcy's face was currently clouded with the scariest one she'd ever witnessed. "Hey, new best friends," she giggled, meeting Darcy's glare with a look of open mirth. Chuck's gaze meanwhile bounced between the two of them like a champion beerpong ball.

"Actually, I'll skip the drink, Chuck." She grinned her mightiest grin, grabbed her empty cup, and held Darcy's eyes for as long as she could. "You think that was cockblocking? Honey, I'll show you cockblocking."

And with that she walked away to find Jane, trying not to let the tears that were stinging her eyes break through.

* * *

_Sophomore Year_

Sweat poured down Lizzie's face as she finished her run and came into a light walk along the stairs of the student center. It had been a good run, and exactly what she'd needed after the stress of midterms nagging at her heels. God, she felt so much better just for the mere fact that she was no longer holed up in the library all day, although she did miss the excuse to wander around campus in her pajamas.

"Lizzie! Lizzie!" she heard the voice of her roommate shouting out across the quad and turned to find Jane sitting at one of the yellow tables of the Student Union with a few other people.

Upon closer inspection of Jane's companions, he heart simultaneously dropped and soared. Chuck was there, sitting very near Jane (oh, how she'd kill for that to finally happen!), but along with him was his raging douche of a best friend, Patrick Darcy, and utter whore of a younger sister, Caroline. Chuck had aged well through college thus far, finally having ditched his freshman glasses and his backpack hitched a bit too high on his shoulders, always stuffed with giant books that made him hunch over. Now he wore contacts and carried a small stack of post-modernist writers assigned to them in their 400 level class (yes, they made sure to schedule at least one class together a semester, and this semester's was by far her favorite thus far).

"Lizzie!" he and Jane greeted her happily after she'd finally jogged the short distance over to their little group.

"How did you do in Benson's midterm?" Chuck asked as Lizzie claimed a chair from a nearby table and pulled it up to their little group, wiping a bit of sweat off her forehead, to which Caroline made a disgusted face.

Lizzie sighed. "Good. Think I fucked up all the stuff about Updike, but I'm glad it's over, so no regrets."

Chuck nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sure you did great, you always have interesting things to say in class, so there's no way Benson would fail you."

Lizzie just shrugged.

"Have you been… running?" Caroline asked with a small snicker, tucking her head onto Patrick Darcy's shoulder. Lizzie's eyes met his cold ones, and she tried very hard to repress a giggle at his look of defiant misery.

"Yes, running. Surely you've heard of it, Caroline?" she replied drily.

"Lizzie's training for a 5K!" Jane interjected before Caroline could process the insult.

Lizzie nodded solemnly—Chuck wasn't the only one who had undergone a bit of a transformation since Freshman year, Lizzie had taken up jogging not long after Darcy's insults to her, forever and a day ago, and her body reflected this transformation most becomingly. She could now wear jogging shorts and a sports bra without feeling but a tinge of self-consciousness, a fact that had not escaped Darcy's notice as she sat before him sweating most spectacularly.

"The Downson Run?" he asked suddenly, stopping himself from watching that one bead of sweat running a beautiful trail across her chest.

Lizzie looked at him, a bit shocked to hear him utter actual words in her presence. After a year and a half in each other's acquaintance, Lizzie had only been personally addressed by The Great Patrick Darcy a very few times. Old insults excluded, he hardly seemed to notice her presence, other than to stare angrily at her when she'd really rather him not be around at all.

"Yes. That's the one," Lizzie agreed, eyeing him almost curiously.

He nodded, no trace of emotion anywhere to be seen. "I'll be doing it too."

"Maybe you two could run together?" Jane ventured, well versed in the two's horrible history, but—she couldn't help but notice—having become aware of certain… actions on Darcy's part that indicated a wish to burn a few choice bridges.

To this Lizzie just scoffed. "Sorry to break your heart, Darce, but you'll have to excuse me if I laugh openly at that suggestion." To which she did, and Darcy scooted around uncomfortably in his chair.

Eventually Lizzie made her excuses in favor of a hot shower, the suggestion of which brought a certain tenseness, as he watched her jog back across the quad in her shorts and bra, to Darcy which Caroline was more than happy to ease.

"Can you believe her?" Caroline asked the group at large with a disgusted quirk to her otherwise pouty lips. "Strutting around campus in shorts like that when you have thighs that big? What a whore."

Jane shot her an angry glare and gathered her things. Chuck followed suit, and suddenly it was just Darcy left at the table to listen to her rant.

"Well, it's disgusting, isn't it Patrick? Look at the size of those things." She was back to pouting.

Darcy's lips turned up just an infinitesimal amount. "Don't worry, Caroline. I'm looking."

* * *

_Junior Year_

Lizzie sat impatiently in her last class of the semester—her last class for quite some time before she began her semester-long study abroad program in Rome. Truth be told, she couldn't be more done with that damn class in question—De Bourgh was a tough bitch when it came to Romantic Poetry and had torn her term paper on Keats to shreds with a red pen—her ego had still yet to recover.

But even with that thought lingering over her head, that wasn't even the major reason she was so excited to be done with that damn class for eternity—no that reason sat beside her, twitching like a madman and chewing his number two pencil. Yes, Patrick Darcy was making it very hard for her to concentrate of her stupid final, indeed. It was bad enough he'd insisted on sitting beside her through every single meeting of their three-day a week class together, alienating Chuck from her by making him sit on Darcy's other side, but he'd also insisted on watching her every move like a lion stalking its prey. No matter what she did, said, wrote down, there he was looking right at her like she was covered in pig's blood. Now, to top it all off, he had suddenly developed Restless Leg Syndrome and there was no way should could concentrate on her final a single minute longer.

So she scribbled her final answer and decided to screw proofreading so she could turn in the damn test and be done with it. Chuck had left ages ago, and she had watched him exit with a sad wave, knowing full-well it'd be another nine month's before she'd return from overseas and see him again. She hoped he'd use that time to finally admit to dear, sweet Jane how thoroughly in love with her he was.

Lizzie dropped her test on De Bourgh's desk with a breath of relief that that version of hell was finally over, before grabbing her backpacking and exiting the room only to find herself in a whole new version of hell.

"Lizzie! Wait. Wait just one second!"

Lizzie heard his pleas, but didn't even bat an eye at thoroughly ignoring them as she continued to cross the long hall of the English department and headed out into the frigid December winter.

"Lizzie," she felt his hand grab her shoulder as she headed towards the Academic Quad, and whirled around in exasperation.

"What is it, Darcy?" she asked, her face clearly displaying an urge to be anywhere but there. "Come to beg off my notes again—look over my shoulder? Cheat on my test?"

"Woah, woah, woah, chill." He held up his hands in defense. "Class is over, in case you missed it. The last thing I want from you is your notes. And I don't cheat, thank you."

"Oh." Lizzie deflated, letting the semester's—two and half year's?—worth anger float off of her. Instead she grabbed her coat and wrapped it tighter around herself. "Well then what do you want?"

Darcy shrugged casually and ran his hand through his hair. He really did have the most spectacular hair, it pained her to admit. And hands. He had great, strong, rough hands. And arms. Very nice arms… But, she hated him, and she'd do well to remember that.

"Just wanted to… talk," he finally admitted.

"Talk?" Lizzie eyed him suspiciously. "To me?"

"Um... Yes?"

Lizzie hitched her bag a bit higher on her shoulder. "About what?"

"Umm…"

"See? We don't talk." She shook her head and began to walk away, only to have him stop her once again.

"Wait, wait. I just want to say something."

She turned back to him again, but still the silence stretched between them. Finally, she made an impatient, exasperated gesture and Patrick Darcy had no other option but to dive right in.

"Listen, I know you really hate me, and you're pretty rude to me, but I thought—maybe in case it was all just some pathetic defense mechanism—I'd tell you that I'm kind of, sort of in love with you."

Lizzie couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped open all on its own accord.

"And yes, I know I once called you fat, like forever and a day ago, and you're still too insecure to have totally let that go. And I know you're intimidated by me and the fact that you can only go to this school cause you're on scholarship… but, but… I took this class just to see you. I can't help but want to be near you. You're really weird. But I just can't help but love you."

Lizzie let this all rest in the air for a moment, hoping there would be a point in time in which he would shout, "Just fucking kidding" or this would all be some sort of horrible nightmare. Alas, that never happened and Patrick Darcy really was standing before her professing his love to her in the most Patrick Darcy way possible: Rudely.

"Excuse me," she said slowly and eventually, "but where is the part of the speech in which I'm supposed to swoon?"

"What?" he seemed entirely shocked by her reaction. In fact, he was shocked a whole three minutes ago when she didn't immediately kiss him.

"Patrick Darcy, from the moment we first met you have been nothing but rude to me," she stated blandly. "Everything I do you just seem to sit there and scorn. I feel like even my breathing upsets you—"

"I don't get—"

"Don't fucking interrupt me!" her ire suddenly broke. Two and a half years worth of frustration and scarcely concealed hatred suddenly broke right over her head. "You stand here and tell me you love me that you want to be near me, and yet you call me weird, insecure, pathetic, and possibly poor, and you have the gall to expect me to react in any manner besides disgust. Combine that with two and half year of blatant dislike, and subtle insults on both our parts and you'll excuse me but I just can't help but feel anything but sickened at your—I suppose it was supposed to be romantic?—speech."

Visibly before her as she said those very words, she watched Patrick Darcy enter a clamshell of defenses. A golden boy through and through, Darcy was not much accustomed to rejection. It did not suit him well, and she watched his face turn puce with anger and confusion, watched him process each of her insults with only further hits to his overinflated ego. "Bitch," he finally muttered, unable to find a better way to process these new emotions. "How dare you—"

"No!" Lizzie now found herself waving a finger angrily at his chest like she was some sort of cartoon character. "How dare _you_!"

And with that she turned on her heel and began to storm across the quad and back to her awaiting, cozy apartment so that Jane could make her a nice cup of tea, back to the comforting thought that soon she'd be in Rome where he'd be the last person on earth she'd have to face.

"It's because I called you fat, isn't it?" she heard him shout and couldn't help but stop. "All those years ago, I called you fat and you still can't just get the fuck over it already!"

Lizzie turned back, just one more time before she was done with him completely. "No!" she shouted at the distance between them. "It's because you're an asshole."

* * *

_Senior Year_

It was weird being back on campus. The place just felt so much smaller now after Rome, after backpacking, after experiencing. She knew it sounded cliché, but now she'd seen how big the world is and this small college town just made her feel claustrophobic.

But, alas, here she was. Back on campus with a whole year of college to complete and the overwhelming fear of whatever happens on the other side of that diploma ceremony.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Jane asked, wrapping her arm over Lizzie's shoulder.

Lizzie shrugged. "Just feels a bit like I've outgrown this place."

"You have." Jane grinned and poked Lizzie's regrown, rounded belly. She was back at the same size she'd been at her freshman year, before all the running and the dieting. She blamed the Italian food, but she wasn't exactly cut up about the whole thing. She'd take veal parmigiana any day over a six-mile run and Special K bars.

She chuckled at Jane's comment and allowed herself to be led back to the Academic quad, in a weird way she hated this place and loved it. She wasn't sure if she regretted the outcome of that day—the last time she'd been there—but there wasn't a day that went by where she didn't think about it.

As if from nowhere a tall, handsome blonde boy came and tackled her to the grass. It took her a few minutes and a mild concussion late r to process exactly who this handsome young man was. "Chuck?" she asked in shock, to which he nodded eagerly. She thought back to that nice little nerd mixing her drinks at her first frat party. Oh, how the times had changed.

"Did you miss me, Lizzie-saurus?" He hopped up off of her and onto his feet. While he was dusting the grass off of himself, a hand was proffered to her and she took it without thinking only to be hauled to her feet and onto the level of none other than Patrick Darcy.

"Oh," she stumbled away from her, the awkwardness of the situation hitting her in a wave. "Hullo."

To this was the most shocking reaction Lizzie had ever received—to this, he grinned. Now Lizzie had obviously seen Darcy smile at a few choice times in their acquaintance; typically while he thought no one was looking, or when he was trying to sleep with a pretty girl. But never, ever had one of these choice Darcy smiles been directed at her.

She wished she were back on the ground so that she wouldn't feel so unsteady on her own legs.

"Watch yourself," Darcy chuckled—chuckled!—and grabbed her arm gently to steady her. A pulse ran up her arm at his touch, she preferred to assume it was just static shock and took a much need step away from his presence. "So… how was Rome?" he asked, his eyes sparking with some emotion she felt was foreign to his face, but suited him beautifully—was that, perhaps, happiness?

She shrugged and tried to force herself to be lighthearted, but her brain just kept snapping back to the last time they were on the A-Quad together and she just couldn't seem to act… normal. "It was… amazing." She was having trouble hearing her own brain over the pounding of that useless muscle inside her chest.

"Good," he grinned again. "That's great."

God, she felt woozy.

"Well," she squeaked before she cleared her voice and tried again. "Well," she pointed over her shoulder with a hitchers thumb, "gotta get to class."

"Right." He bobbed his head. "Well, will I be seeing you around?"

She shrugged and tried to remain calm—what? Was she twelve? "I guess." Very cool.

"Let's go," Chuck muttered, grabbing her by the arm and leading her towards their class on her unsteady feet. "You okay there, champ?" he asked, grinning knowingly as Jane wandered off towards her own class.

"Yeah, I guess." She tried to clear her fuzzy mind. "Was it just me, or was Darcy acting… weird?"

"You mean happy?" Chuck clarified. "Yeah, well anything is better than the way he moped around all last semester."

"Really?" she couldn't help it that her voice shot up again. "He moped?"

"Yeah. He also asked about you a lot."

"Oh did he?" Could her voice get any higher?

Chuck snorted to himself. "You two are pathetic."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

To which Chuck snorted again.

Lizzie pouted. "Speak for yourself, when are you going to ask Jane to have your babies?"

* * *

_Graduation_

God, did anyone look good in those awful robes? Lizzie wondered as she looked around at all her classmates milling about, Jane and Chuck making out heavily in the two chairs beside her. She pulled the flask-sized bottle of vodka she snuck into the arena out of her voluminous sleeve and took a swig; glad she'd snuck it in if she's going to have to watch the gruesome twosome go at it like it's their last day on Earth.

"Can I have a swig?" Darcy asked, sweeping beautifully into the seat beside her. Oh, so that's who looked good in this awful, billowing, black gown: Patrick Darcy.

After almost an entire year of friendship, she was still slightly startled when he addressed her in public. He was just so… beautiful… and cool. And now that he no longer seemed to want to prove that to the world, she found his presence way more than tolerable. God, if someone had told her freshman year that Patrick Darcy would be one of the people she'd miss the most…

He took a long drag on her vodka and settled himself in his seat for the long haul. She eyed him curiously. "Aren't you going to sit with all your frat brothers?"

Darcy looked around for the group of milling, inebriated young men. "Meh. They won't miss me. Plus, I didn't want to leave you alone with the tonsil hockey twins." He gestured to their two best friends. "Just seemed rude."

She grinned. God, she loved his sense of humor—Loved? She swigged the vodka again.

Darcy gestured to the stage, set up like some sort of creepy Hogwarts castle. "So. You ready for this?"

"Graduation?"

"Yeah." He was leaning casually back in his chair, totally at ease with the world.

"Is anyone?"

He chuckled and looked at her. "Touché."

Lizzie took a deep breath and looked around her for a moment. There weren't even many faces she recognized, her gown was disgustingly hot for the mid-May weather and all she could feel was overwhelmingly sad. "I actually hate this."

"The ceremony and pomp? The blatant expenditure of tuition fees? What?" he grinned. God, he knew her too well.

"No, I hate everyone leaving. I'm going to miss them."

Darcy looked across her and stared pointedly at their two best friends, still raucously going at it without much respect for the crowd around them. "Really? You're going to miss that?" he asked with mirth.

"No, I'm going to miss _this_."

"What?"

"You."

"Oh." Darcy grinned—oh she knew that damn cocky grin reserved especially for his nighttime conquests since freshman year. Gross, he'd once worn that smile for Jane (thankfully, she'd prevented that. Solid cockblocking, she had to admit), it pained her to remember.

But now that that grin was hers, was it totally stupid to say that she liked it?

"You're going to miss me, then?"

"Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"It's not that," he clarified, stopping another argument before one of their infamous tiffs could break out. "I'm just glad to know that you will."

She turned in her chair, turned to face him with earnestness—afraid this could be their last goodbye before they were separated by the sea of congratulatory families and the responsibilities of moving. "Of course. I don't want you to leave, Patrick."

He turned and faced her too, equally earnest, equally serious. After four years, they were finally on the same page. "Good. Because I'm staying."

"What?" she couldn't help but laugh at his cruel joke.

"I'm staying."

"You can't!"

"I can. And I am. Fuck law school. I already deferred."

"What! Why?"

He stopped her with a hand on her cheek, those same rough hands she'd admired secretly for so long. "Because of you."

"That's stupid!"

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is!"

He leaned in quickly, sweeping his lips onto hers with purpose and determination, but once they had connected, letting them slow, savor, enjoy the thing he'd waited a whole four years to do. And he wasn't the only one to enjoy it.

He pulled away slowly, forcing himself to remove his lips from hers. He grinned, his eyes doing that happy dance he saved just for her—don't think she hadn't noticed—but he kept his hand planted happily on her cheek.

"No, it's not," he replied, making it clear that that was the end of the story.

* * *

_One-shot!_

_Hurray! I probably should have been updating my other stories, but they weren't getting many reviews so I figured I'd try writing something else for a change. I enjoyed doing it too. I've probably had this is my head since I was like a sophomore in college. It feels good to finally get it down._

_Well let me know if you enjoyed it. I like one-shots—takes all the angst out of forcing myself to update. But review anyway because it makes my crappy week 1,000 times better!_

_Happy Memorial Day weekend. Alas, I must work anyway. Such is life._

_:)_


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